Work Text:
Jason’s putting groceries away when a white light floods his apartment. It fades just as quickly as it appears. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he scans the room warily. He has no idea what just happened, but he gets a clue when he spots a bloodied vigilante, crumpled on his living room floor.
It’s Red Robin.
Tim.
Jason rushes to his side, not knowing or caring if this is the Tim he left behind in his original universe. He sees his little brother unconscious, bleeding heavily from a wound on his chest, and he does what he can to fix it. He’s grateful Cass and little Tim are off at the library today, no doubt badgering Babs and working on their sign language together. They shouldn’t have to see this.
Jason feels like he can’t breathe until he makes sure Tim will keep breathing. He rocks back on his heels, watching the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest, almost sick with relief. He’d set Tim on the couch, for the moment, and he’s once again reminded that he needs a bigger apartment.
He cleans up the mess he’d made in his frantic scramble to save his brother’s life and waits for Red Robin, still in his tattered uniform, to wake up. Tim stirs after what feels like an eternity, blinking open pale eyes with a groan. He finds Jason almost instantly, and Jason freezes under the weight of his stare.
“Knew you weren’t dead,” Tim grumbles.
“You always were the smart one,” Jason replies. He moves to ruffle the kid’s hair but stops cold when Tim flinches, expecting a hit. “Try to get some rest. The kids’ll be back soon.”
“Kids?” Tim asks. He manages to look tired down to his bones and achingly curious at once.
“Ah,” Jason says, scratching at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous habit he’s never been able to break. “Yeah, I kinda pulled a Bruce. Little Timmy and Cass are staying here, and little Jay comes by whenever he can. Dick, too.”
Tim manages to roll his eyes before he’s out cold again. Jason wonders if it’s trust or blood loss, but he decides he doesn’t want to know. He sits down on the floor next to the couch, leaning his head against the arm. He’s exhausted, but the kids will be back soon, and he needs to start chopping vegetables for the soup he was planning on making. He wonders how long Red Robin will be unconscious.
Jason hauls himself to his feet and tucks a blanket around his brother. He stretches, spine popping, and moves to the kitchen. He lets himself fall into the soothing routine of cooking—preparing a meal for the ones he loves. He’s just finished stirring the vegetables into the broth when he hears keys jingling in the lock.
Tim and Cass enter the apartment. Tim’s happy chatter peters off when he spots the vigilante on the couch.
“Hey Jason?” He calls, sounding halfway between confused and elated. “Is that me?”
Jason moves to the living room, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.
“Hey kiddo, yeah that’s the version of you from my universe. How was the library?”
“It was good,” Tim replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. Cass peeks over his shoulder, looking at the older, more gaunt version of Tim with a curious eye. “Babs recommended a history book she thinks I’ll like. Is he okay?”
Jason offers his baby brother a soft smile, an expression reserved for him alone.
“He’ll be just fine.” He reaches out and ruffles Tim’s hair. The boy squawks and moves to dodge, laughing. “Alright you two, go wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready.”
They’re midway through their soup when the unconscious vigilante on the couch starts to wake up. Little Tim’s expression brightens, and he hops off his chair at the table to scurry over to his alternate self.
“Hi!” Tim chirps, every bit the little bird he is.
“Hi?” Red Robin says slowly. He sounds completely baffled. Jason has never heard this version of Tim Drake so uncertain.
“Do you want any dinner? Jason made veggie soup. It’s good! Did you know he’s a really good cook?”
“Um.” Red glances at Jason, bewildered. “Soup sounds great. I didn’t know he likes to cook, actually.”
Jason gets up from the table and moves to the kitchen, grateful his back will be turned. He hadn’t considered until that moment how little Timmy would react once he finally sees for himself just how much his alternate self has suffered at Jason’s hands. Red Robin knows next to nothing about Jason. He’s all-too familiar with the vicious man under the red hood, though.
Will Tim finally realize just how terrible of a person Jason is? Has Jason seen the last of that adoring look in his little brother’s eyes before it flickers into fear?
His hands tremble as he ladles the soup into a bowl for Red Robin. When he turns back around, he meets Cass’ eyes. She smiles at him, soft concern bleeding into her expression. Jason presses a quick kiss to her temple as he walks past. He hands the bowl to Red Robin, waiting to let go until he’s sure Tim’s weak grip can handle the weight.
Red Robin takes a slow, tentative sip as Little Tim tucks himself into Jason’s side. He’s turned into a real cuddle bug since Jason introduced him to proper human affection. Red glances up at the movement and can’t mask his surprise. Jason figures it must be jarring to see a younger version of himself snuggling up to his would-be murderer.
Jason pretends not to see the abject longing in his eyes.
After everyone goes to bed for the night, Jason finds himself outside on the balcony, staring at the sky and wondering how long it’ll take for Timmy to start being scared of him. Hearing the watered-down version of events and seeing the living proof of Jason’s cruelty for himself are two very different experiences.
The night air is cool against his skin, and the chill keeps Jason grounded in his body. The balcony door opens with a creak, and Red Robin drifts to his side, waiflike. He tips his head back, eyes slipping shut.
“It’s strange,” Tim says after a moment, “Seeing myself happy.” He opens his eyes, fixing his pale, unnerving gaze on Jason. “You’re good for him, but I don’t understand why.”
“Why I’m good for him?”
“Why you care,” Tim clarifies, voice soft. “I thought you wanted me dead.”
Jason remembers what he’d told this world’s Tim a while back—about making amends and realizing too late how much better Tim Drake deserves. He nearly grimaces. Red Robin is like a ghost, in a way; he’s one of Jason’s biggest regrets, coming face-to-face with him in a way he can’t ignore.
“Taking him in felt like a second chance,” he finally says. “I fucked up with you.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I never apologized, either.” He takes a long, slow breath and meets Tim’s eyes. “I’m sorry for everything. I know it won’t change anything about it, but I regret what I did.”
“Is this about making yourself feel better? By, what, replacing me with a version of me you didn’t try to kill?”
“No,” Jason says, a little more sharply than he intends. “That’s not it, Tim. I thought I’d never see you—this you—again, and I know now that you deserve people who are good to you. Do you think I could just let the kid go on without anyone giving a damn about him? Especially if I have the ability to make things a little better for him?”
He isn’t aware of the defensive anger in his voice until he sees Tim flinch back. Jason freezes, heart sinking to his stomach.
“Shit,” he mutters, turning away. “Sorry.” He huffs, feeling the frustration bleeding out of him in favor of a bone-deep sadness. “Look Tim, I just want to make things better here. It isn’t too late, and if I can prevent some of those hurts, I’m going to.”
“What changed your mind? About me, I mean.” Tim’s expression pulls into a frown, but his tone is aching. “This is a far cry from pretty much anything you’ve ever said to me before.”
“The Lazarus Pit fucked me up,” Jason admits. He wraps his hands around the metal railing looping its way around the balcony. “Once I got it under control, I was able to put the pieces together for myself. I was stupid to trust the League of Assassins, but I know better now.” He hesitates, uncertain whether his next words will help or hurt. “I started seeing sense a few months before I got dropped into this universe. I never reached out because I figured you wouldn’t want me to.”
Tim shrugs, and Jason finds himself struggling to read the expression on his face. He’s gotten used to a more open Tim Drake, leaving him wrong-footed with this version of him.
“I wish you had let me make that choice for myself,” Tim finally says with a sigh. “But it doesn’t matter now, regardless.”
“It does matter,” Jason argues, “I should’ve been the kind of brother you deserve.”
“Weren’t you?” Tim asks, mouth twisting into a wry smile.
Jason looks at this kid—the young man his little baby brother could have grown up to be—and wants to cry. The mocking self-hatred he sees in Tim’s eyes is nearly enough to make him throw any goodwill he’s gained with him to the wind just so he can pull Tim into his arms. He holds himself back, not wanting to step over his boundaries, but it’s a near thing. He’s still just a teenager, but he’s thin and wan, and he looks so worn down. Jason’s heart aches fiercely in his chest. This life is tearing Tim apart, and Jason doesn’t think he’ll be allowed to help make things better for him.
“Can I hug you?” Jason asks, feeling a desperate sort of hurt buzzing through his veins. It’s a long shot, but he has to try. He’s surprised when Tim nods, still looking wary.
Jason tugs him close in the kind of all-encompassing hug he remembers feeling most safe in, back when he was small. He rests his cheek against Tim’s hair, hating how small the kid feels. Tim holds himself stiffly, like he’s waiting for the hug to turn into a constricting hold, a way to hurt him even more. After a minute or so, he melts into the touch. Jason thinks back to how touch starved this world’s Tim was when they first met, and he realizes with a pang that this Tim is probably dealing with worse. No wonder he didn’t refuse or laugh in his face when Jason asked him for a hug.
“I know you probably want to go home,” Jason says, breaking the gentle quiet, “but I think you should stay here for a little while—just until you’re healthy. I’ll help you however much you’re comfortable with, either way.”
Tim steps back, and Jason pretends he doesn’t notice him wiping at his eyes.
“You’d let me stay?”
“Only if you want.” He tries to offer Tim a smile, as reassuring as he can make it. “Your injuries were pretty bad, and honestly, I think you could use some consistent rest and nutrition for a while.”
“You’ll help me find my way back?” Tim asks, tone more suspicious than the expression on his face. Jason has no idea where his head’s at.
“Course,” Jason says with a shrug, “as long as you don’t mind if I stay here when you go.” He glances over his shoulder, looking back through the balcony door and thinking of the kids inside the apartment. “I’ve got the kids to take care of, and I’m not going to leave them.”
“Okay,” Tim says with a nod, “I’ll stay while I heal.” He looks so uncertain, and Jason wishes he could soothe his fears the way he does for his little counterpart.
“You’re welcome for as long as you’d like, Tim,” he says.
Jason thinks this is the first time Red Robin has ever smiled at him, and hopefully, it’s the first of many.